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of human nature—the spectator idealized"1 of the Greek Chorus; it is impressionable and inconsistent in its views, which sway hither and thither as wrought on by events. Another group approximates to the passionless Insight of the Ages. The remainder are eclectically chosen auxiliaries whose signification may be readily discerned. In point of literary form, the scheme of contrasted Choruses and other conventions of this external feature was shaped with a single view to the modern expression of a modern outlook, and in frank divergence from classical and other dramatic precedent which ruled the ancient voicings of ancient themes.

      It may hardly be necessary to inform readers that in devising this chronicle-piece no attempt has been made to create that completely organic structure of action, and closely-webbed development of character and motive, which are demanded in a drama strictly self- contained. A panoramic show like the present is a series of historical “ordinates” [to use a term in geometry]: the subject is familiar to all; and foreknowledge is assumed to fill in the junctions required to combine the scenes into an artistic unity. Should the mental spectator be unwilling or unable to do this, a historical presentment on an intermittent plan, in which the dramatis personae number some hundreds, exclusive of crowds and armies, becomes in his individual case unsuitable.

      In this assumption of a completion of the action by those to whom the drama is addressed, it is interesting, if unnecessary, to name an exemplar as old as Aeschylus, whose plays are, as Dr. Verrall reminds us,2 scenes from stories taken as known, and would be unintelligible without supplementary scenes of the imagination.

      Readers will readily discern, too, that The Dynasts is intended simply for mental performance, and not for the stage. Some critics have averred that to declare a drama3 as being not for the stage is to make an announcement whose subject and predicate cancel each other. The question seems to be an unimportant matter of terminology. Compositions cast in this shape were, without doubt, originally written for the stage only, and as a consequence their nomenclature of “Act,” “Scene,” and the like, was drawn directly from the vehicle of representation. But in the course of time such a shape would reveal itself to be an eminently readable one; moreover, by dispensing with the theatre altogether, a freedom of treatment was attainable in this form that was denied where the material possibilities of stagery had to be rigorously remembered. With the careless mechanicism of human speech, the technicalities of practical mumming were retained in these productions when they had ceased to be concerned with the stage at all.

      To say, then, in the present case, that a writing in play-shape is not to be played, is merely another way of stating that such writing has been done in a form for which there chances to be no brief definition save one already in use for works that it superficially but not entirely resembles.

      Whether mental performance alone may not eventually be the fate of all drama other than that of contemporary or frivolous life, is a kindred question not without interest. The mind naturally flies to the triumphs of the Hellenic and Elizabethan theatre in exhibiting scenes laid “far in the Unapparent,” and asks why they should not be repeated. But the meditative world is older, more invidious, more nervous, more quizzical, than it once was, and being unhappily perplexed by—

       Riddles of Death Thebes never knew,

      may be less ready and less able than Hellas and old England were to look through the insistent, and often grotesque, substance at the thing signified.

      In respect of such plays of poesy and dream a practicable compromise may conceivably result, taking the shape of a monotonic delivery of speeches, with dreamy conventional gestures, something in the manner traditionally maintained by the old Christmas mummers, the curiously hypnotizing impressiveness of whose automatic style—that of persons who spoke by no will of their own—may be remembered by all who ever experienced it. Gauzes or screens to blur outlines might still further shut off the actual, as has, indeed, already been done in exceptional cases. But with this branch of the subject we are not concerned here.

      T.H.

      September 1903.

       FOOTNOTES

DETAILED CONTENTS.

       Table of Contents

      THE DYNASTS: AN EPIC-DRAMA OF THE WAR WITH NAPOLEON

       Preface

       PART FIRST

       Characters

       Fore Scene. The Overworld

       Act First:—

       Scene I. England. A Ridge in Wessex

       “ II. Paris. Office of the Minister of Marine

       “ III. London. The Old House of Commons

       “ IV. The Harbour of Boulogne

       “ V. London. The House of a Lady of Quality

       “ IV. Milan. The Cathedral

       Act Second:—

       Scene I. The Dockyard, Gibraltar

       “ II. Off Ferrol

       “ III. The Camp and Harbour of Boulogne

       “ IV. South Wessex. A Ridge-like Down near the Coast

       “ V. The Same. Rainbarrows' Beacon, Egdon Heath

       Act Third:—

       Scene I. The Chateau at Pont-de-Briques

       “ II. The Frontiers of Upper Austria and Bavaria

       “ III. Boulogne. The St. Omer Road

       Act Fourth:—

       Scene I. King George's Watering-place, South Wessex

       “ II. Before the City of Ulm

       “ III. Ulm. Within the City

       “ IV. Before Ulm. The Same Day

       “ V. The Same. The Michaelsberg

       “ VI. London. Spring Gardens

       Act Fifth:—

       Scene I. Off Cape Trafalgar

       “ II. The Same. The Quarter-deck of the “Victory”

       “ III. The Same. On Board the “Bucentaure”

       “ IV. The Same. The Cockpit of the “Victory”

       “ V. London. The Guildhall

       “ VI. An Inn at Rennes

       “ VII. King George's Watering-place, South Wessex

       Act Sixth:—

       Scene I. The Field of Austerlitz. The French Position

       “ II. The Same. The Russian Position

       “ III. The Same. The French Position

       “ IV. The Same. The Russian Position

       “ V. The Same. Near the Windmill of Paleny

       “ VI. Shockerwick House, near Bath

       “ VII. Paris. A Street leading to the Tuileries

       “ VIII. Putney. Bowling Green House

       PART SECOND

       Characters

       Act First:—

       Scene I. London. Fox's Lodgings, Arlington Street

       “ II. The Route between London and Paris

       “ III. The Streets of Berlin

       “ IV. The Field of Jena

       “ V.

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